Smile Like You Mean It
by 69351
Summary: Girls frighten Remus, and in close enough proximity can make him turn various shades of red. Surprisingly, his inner bookworm and a misplaced paperback cause his first tragic venture into romance. MWPP, RLOCSS, MARY SUE!
1. Introductions of a Most Proper Sort

**Smile Like You Mean It**

"Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head?  
And does he sing to you incessantly from the place between your bed and wall?  
Does he walk around all day at school with his feet inside your shoes?  
Looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you."

- The Calendar Hung Itself, Bright Eyes

Summary: Girls frighten Remus, and in close enough proximity can make him turn various shades of red. Surprisingly, his inner bookworm and a misplaced paperback cause his first tragic venture into romance. Marauders Era, RL/OC/SS, not in that order. MARY SUE!

Author's note: JK Rowling owns everything, and no harm is meant. This is just another hopeless attempt at fanfiction by a rather bored fan girl.

* * *

Remus. Remus J. Lupin. Moony. Remus John Lupin.

Oh, he hadn't intended Snape to hate him. It just happened. During his first week at Hogwarts, they had tolerated each other. Severus had no reason to hate him, beside the fact he messed up the first potion they had been assigned to work on together.

Sirius and James decided they hated him. His greasy hair, his hooked nose, and the fact that he was a pretentious bastard. He was a pureblood snob. Once Sirius had pointed these things out, it was very, very easy to hate Snape.

Remus has never intended to take the guy's love interest, either. Never girlfriend. Not Remus's girlfriend. Girls frightened Remus, and in close enough proximity made him turn various shades of red. They were just friends, and they both liked Steinbeck.

So why was it such a catastrophe?

Professor Burroughs, head of Slytherin house, was a nutcase, to say the least. Ambitious and conniving, but certainly not evil, even if that's what his students thought. Once every week or two, he would decide to pair up students from the separate houses. Some days were more disastrous than others. Like that time Regulus and Sirius had been paired up one cauldron blown up, three projects ruined and five students in the hospital wing.

"Snape and Evans, Potter and Lestrange, Regulus Black and McKinnon, Lupin and Daunais."

There was the occasional mutter of complaint, which Burroughs paid no attention to. After six years, they had learned the man would always ignore their protests, or he was just deaf. Slowly, the students shifted chairs and took their seats, while the directions for the potion appeared on the board.

Remus set his head down, and looked over at James. His face was a cross between jealousy and sadness, which happened to make him look like a puppy that had been kicked between the eyes. As Snape grudgingly took a seat next to Lily, he could hear James soft whine, _"Liiiilllly!" _

Daunais sat next to him, and set her books on the table. "Hello," she said awkwardly.

Lupin thought nothing of the glare Snape gave him.

"Hi," he replied, watching her carelessly spill the ingredients onto the cutting board. While she read up on the potion for a moment in the textbook, he found neatly arranging the plant roots. The perfection he insisted on with his work had become subconscious now, and he did these things automatically.

"You like Steinbeck?" he asked, reading the titles of the books she had been carrying.

"Huh?" She looked up at him. "Oh, Steinbeck. Yes."

Remus briefly wondered what a Slytherin was doing reading Muggle literature, and if one had ever been exiled from the house for doing so. Most Slytherins were pure-bloods, he had read, in _Hogwarts: A History,_ so he assumed she was half-blood. Or crazy.

"Lupin? Lupin? _Remus!"_

"What?" he asked hurriedly.

"Could you at least try to pay attention? Shrivelfigs, please!"

His face turned red as he murmured something under his breath, and began to carefully slice the plant. Antonia Daunais was rather serious about her academics. She was in the top five of their year. Lupin was one himself, along with Snape.

"Wait," he interrupted her adding some other ingredient. Possibly beetle shells. "You need to powder them, not crush them."

She looked at him sceptically. "What's the difference?"

Remus felt his face go red, again. She was challenging him. "If the beetle shells are powdered, the potion will better absorb them. When they're crushed, the potion boils longer and can sometimes burn which is bad." A million synonyms for _bad_ ran through his mind, but it was too late to use them. It was a pity, really; he could've come off so much more intelligent.

Antonia smiled at him strangely, her brown eyes rimmed in black. "Not bad for a Gryffindor."

It was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever received from a Slytherin.

They had finished the assignment fifteen minutes ahead of the class, and it was a lot less painful than Remus had anticipated. James had gotten into a shouting match over the potion with one of the Lestrange brothers, which had ultimately resulted in a melted cauldron and a failing grade.

It was very awkward, sitting there without having any conversation to make. Conversation had usually been easy for Remus. He could be polite and talk about the weather, but how strange was it to talk about the weather? How strange was it to make casual conversation with a Slytherin? A _girl_ Slytherin?

Girls had always confused him, the way they walked around in their cliques. It was like a pack of animals. They were always attached at the hip, talking in what seemed like a foreign language. He didn't understand the code words, the way they giggled behind their hands when the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain walked by, or what was so great about passing notes during Charms even though they were sitting at the same desk.

Burroughs stopped in front of the cauldron, and looked down at the potion. He glanced at the two students, and simply gave them a 98 an Outstanding.

Antonia gave a dry laugh. "Where did our two points go? The potion is effing perfect."

Remus wasn't witty, so he didn't have an answer. The bell rang, and Antonia gathered her books soundlessly. He watched her fall into the Slytherin clique, as she took place between Regulus Black, Rosalind Notaro, and Severus Snape.

It was funny to think Snape had friends but more funny-pathetic, than funny-ha-ha.

Remus had been halfway through his Charms reading assignment when he realized that the copy of Steinbeck in his bag wasn't his.

He pulled out a quill, along with the book, and gave an exasperated sigh. "Damn."

They were sitting under a tree by the lake, Remus actually doing his homework, while James and Sirius cast showy charms on each other, and Peter watched admiringly.

"Yes, Mssr. Moony?" Sirius asked. "What are we damning?"

"A book."

Sirius looked at him curiously, and a spell from James barely missed knocking him backwards. They had been practicing disarming charms. "A book?" Sirius repeated. "You _love_ books. Think of the books! Why would you do such a thing?"

"It's that Slytherin girl's," he said, quietly. "I grabbed the wrong book."

"Oh." Sirius walked over, and flopped down onto the grass next to him. "So what do we do?"

"Burn it?" suggested Peter.

"No, we take the obvious course of action and return it. It's common courtesy."

"That's like chivalry, right?" Peter asked. "Do we need top hats?"

"No, chivalry is where you have a knight in shining armour who whisks the girl away on a white stallion into the sunset," Sirius said, very animatedly.

"Where are we going to get a stallion?"

"I could be a knight!"

"No, no," Remus groaned. "No knights, no stallions." Sometimes he had trouble believing that his friends really were sixteen and seventeen. Stallions. Knights. Shiny armour. _Really_, that was the illustrated version of King Arthur. Maybe one of these days Sirius would move up from picture books to ones with chapters. Who knows, he could even learn what a textbook was.

Remus looked around the grounds, hoping Daunais would be outside. He didn't want to bother going into the castle to look for her. Seeing her at dinner was always an option, but the entire house of Slytherin would be watching him. Remus would say, 'why, hello there, this is your book, I believe?' and she would laugh and say, 'oh, you silly Gryffindor, come closer so I may slap you, and my noble Slytherin court can maul you. We will roast you over our common room fire and eat your brains for breakfast with a cup of Earl Grey.'

Wow. Usually, he didn't create such vivid images, and unrealistic ones, at that.

"I'm bored," Sirius complained, rolling onto his stomach so his face was buried in the grass, "and Quidditch practice isn't for another three hours. James, make a suggestion."

"Do you have any dungbombs?"

"No."

"Fireworks?"

"All out."

"Then we know what we're doing at Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Too far away. I want to do something _now_, like punch Snivellus in the nose. Did you see him with Evans today?"

James made his Small Noise of Death. He was always making various little cries and whimpers, which Sirius had gotten used to decoding. There was the Pout of Jealousy and Sadness, the Victory Scream (reserved for Quidditch matches), Vindictive Snicker, and especially the Impressive Deep Voice accompanied by the Hair Ruffle.

"I should _kill_ him," James sneered. "I should chop him into tiny little pieces and bury them in the forest. No one will ever know! And we can blame Regulus!"

"Yes!" Sirius chorused. "We can blame Regulus and get him _expelled_ and bring _shame_. Oh, it's bloody _brilliant_, I love you, mate. And then we can dispose of Regulus's body, too!"

Remus couldn't help but become slightly frightened when Sirius spoke in italics. Emphasising words like _kill_ and _expelled_ and _shame_, ending with _brilliant_ had more than once gotten them house points deducted in the hundreds. Sirius had been feeling particularly malicious after moving out over the summer. Regulus had taken every possession he left behind before he could do anything, among these a collection of swords he had gotten for his thirteenth birthday.

"Oh, Moony, look," Peter said, pointed towards the entrance to the castle. "There's your damsel, which you must bring chivalry upon."

"What?" Remus repeated. "What kind of sentence is that? _Bring chivalry upon?"_

"Look who she's standing with," James added. Daunais had walked outside for a moment, and looked over the school grounds while Snape stood behind her. After a moment of waving into the open, a fifth year Ravenclaw girl walked over. She talked with Daunais for a moment, before the two of them went inside. Daunais waved good-bye to Snape, who sat down on the bottom of the steps and took out an assignment to work on.

"They waved. She's probably going to get warts now," Sirius said.

"How do you get warts from waving?" Peter asked.

"Easily," Sirius said. "When you wave, you are exchanging air with the person you are waving at. Obviously, the air around Snivellus is contaminated with billions of diseases, including one that prevents him from washing his hair. These diseases wafted over towards Doooo-naiys so she will break out in warts before dinner."

"Padfoot, that's bullshit."

Sirius grinned.

Remus had to try very hard to suppress a laugh, "and how," he said, "do you plan on passing Auror training with answers like that?"

Sirius sat up, dusting grass off of his uniform. "Very carefully. I mean, it got me through Divination."

At dinner, James casually took a seat near Lily. This arrangement remained for about thirty seconds, until Lily realised he was next to her. She promptly got up and walked to the other side of the table. James's face fell, and Sirius slipped into her seat. "It's okay," he said, throwing an arm around James's shoulder. "You'll always have me, and we all know that I'm the sexiest male in this school. Well, next to Flitwick, of course."

James rolled his eyes, and piled more food than usual onto his plate, as Peter sat down across from them. Remus remained standing, looking across the hall at the Slytherin table.

"You should just get it over with," James said. "Quick and painless."

He gave a dry laugh. "Right, painless. I'll try."

Remus wandered over to the Slytherin table, unusually nervous, clutching the book in his hands. He felt eyes turn to him as he crossed the hall, and finally stopped next to Daunais. She was sitting towards the back of the hall, with Rosalind. Rosalind was a large, intimidating girl, who was at least six feet tall and had an upturned nose. Daunais looked very demure next to her, and smiled at him at him awkwardly.

"Uh, hi, Daunais," he said. "I grabbed the wrong book during Potions here." He handed it to her. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow as she took it, and exchanged a look with Rosalind.

"Thank you very much, Lupin. Have a seat?"

Remus sat down across from her only because it was the polite thing. His gold and scarlet tie really set him apart from everybody else at the table. Many of the Slytherins were looking at him curiously, and he really wanted to leave.

"That was quite the courteous thing you did, returning my book. You said you liked Steinbeck? What're some of your favourite authors?"

"Kerouac, Austen I like Robert Browning."

A huge smile spread across her pink lips, as if she was suppressing a laugh. "Browning, really? That's very _cute_."

"Steinbeck is a Muggle," he said suddenly. "I was kind of surprised you were reading that, being in Slytherin. What else do you read?" Remus was more interested in finding out why a Slytherin was reading Muggle literature, than finding out who she liked. It wasn't completely outrageous, just highly unusual.

"Well, it's easier to find well-written Muggle literature, because they focus on human qualities more than magical theory and history, which is really cliché in our world." She paused, brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "I like Anthony Burgess Kerouac is very good. I was especially fond of that one Golding wrote the one that agreed with Rousseau's theories. Terribly confusing and barbaric but it did make you think."

He stared at her blankly. She knew what she was talking about, sort of, and it almost made sense, which was _almost_ impressive. And why wasn't she in Ravenclaw?

She was snickering behind her hand at something, which brought him back to reality. "You have that fish face one again, the same one you had in Potions. It's funny-we should hang out sometime."

_"What?"_

"We should hang out sometime," she repeated. "You know you like books, I like books, we're nerds."

"Thanks, I think?"

"It was a compliment."

"All right." He managed a small laugh, but looking around at the people she hung out with ruined any potential for further intelligent conversation. Rosalind looked as though she was evaluating him, and he wasn't winning.

"Well, look who finally showed up," Daunais said, looking towards the doorway. Remus looked to his left, to see Severus walking in with Regulus at his heels. They both stopped at the table, with looks of such surprise on their faces you'd think they had been shot.

"Hello, Lupin," Snape sneered. "May I ask why you're joining us tonight?" he asked, in mock-politeness.

Lupin sat up so suddenly, he slammed his knee into the table painfully, rattling the silverware. He laughed nervously, clutching his leg. He wished briefly that Sirius or James were there to say something clever, but all he could come up with was, "I think I'll spare myself," which sounded incredibly stupid.

"What are you _doing_ here, anyway?" Regulus asked.

"Remus and I were engaged in an intelligent conversation, if you must know," Daunais said tilting her head at him. "And thank you," she added, turning back to him, "for returning my book, and the lovely discussion on literature. I look forward to seeing you again."

Remus didn't know if she was being sarcastic or not, and muttered a quick good-bye before hurrying back over to the Gryffindor table. He practically collapsed into the seat next to Peter. Sirius was laughing uncontrollably, along with James.

"You should've seen your face-you bolted when Snivelly walked over," Sirius laughed.

"You're so red! What happened? Why'd you sit and talk?" James asked.

"She wanted to talk," he said, "about books. And she said some face I make is funny."

"The fish face?" Sirius asked.

"What now, you too? I don't make a fish face!"

"Yes, you do. You do it when you don't know what to say. It's like this." Sirius let his lips part, as if in a pause of thought, and his eyes stared blankly ahead.

Remus sighed in defeat. "Have any of you heard of Burgess?"

All three of them stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Fish face, mates," he said, smiling to himself. "You're all doing it."

"But you have gills," Peter said.

Oh, yes, his gills. Remus ran a hand over the faint scars along the side of his neck. They were scratches from a particularly bad transformation.

"It's okay, you have beautiful gills," Sirius said.

"Evans has lovely gills," James added.

They looked at him strangely, and James blinked, as if just realizing what he had just said. "Neck!" he continued. "She has a lovely neck. Gills are in no way referring to anything else that we shall not speak of."

"Sirius speaks of it," Peter chimed in, "all the time."

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

Beloved canon Nazis: do not crucify me, for I know this is a Mary Sue, and I know it's punishable by death. Think of it as a sort mindless indulgence that at least tries to consider canon (read: no makeovers, no curves in all the right places, and love doesn't really strike until third sight). It'd be an honour to appear on Potter Sue of the Day or Deleterius, so please leave a comment. Why is it an honour? Because I am a sick, crazy nerd with a warped sense of humour. And now, go spork-happy :D

And just for spite: _omfg their love iz so platonic loolz I luv t3h moony!!!1/aevn/?_


	2. Flowers

Smile Like You Mean It

Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to a lovely reviewer, the misspelling of Steinbeck in the previous chapter has been corrected. This chapter is a bit lower quality, because I am in a hurry to get it up before One-Acts start, and then I will officially have no time for anything.

The rest of the week went by simply enough. Sirius punched Snape in the nose twice, and in turn Sirius was thrown down a staircase and hexed with stings all over his body. The score was pretty much even.

Remus had forgotten about Daunais, until Saturday. They were walking out of Honeydukes on the Hogsmeade trip, and he saw her disappear into a quill and parchment store across the street. It was raining heavily, and they remained underneath the doorway of Honeydukes.

"Hey, look, it's the damsel of Moony's chivalry," Peter said, pointed across the street. Every time he said something like this, the grammar pained Remus like a thousand burning books, or drowning kittens… something to that effect.

"What do I do?" he asked, taking a small bite of chocolate. He needed to go to the writing supply store—The Inkblot—and pick up a new quill. His had been destroyed after James tried to prove quills could be used to play darts. He really, really didn't want to risk having to make useless conversation again. It got tiring.

"You go inside, and act casual," Sirius told him. "Sit down, make more of your cutesy nerd talk. Find out what Burgess is."

"Why?"

"Because you need to get laid."

"WHAT?" He whipped around, eyes bulging. "Sirius _what did you just say?"_

Sirius was laughing at him again, and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Don't have a heart attack. I'm kidding. You don't need to get laid—yet."

"I'm sixteen, and I do not plan on having sex. Ever."

"Ever? Really?"

"Why are we talking about this?"

"You asked me what I said."

"I wasn't being literal."

"You and your rhetoric… right, mate." Sirius sighed dramatically. "It's all rhetoric and hypothetical and idioms now, but one of these days you are going to die a poor, lonely man, all shrivelled and miserable because you didn't ever go into that stationary store. And you'll probably have a million cats."

"Sirius, I would. I would go in there, but don't you find it a bit pointless? All this over a girl?"

Sirius gave him a strange look. "How could you think of it as pointless? Think of the inter-house unity! Think of _girls_! It's part of your prefect duties."

"We're in different houses," he pressed. "Very different houses. And we're not exactly on pleasant terms with her friends." _Besides_, he wanted to say, _I'm the last of the Marauders that doesn't substitute brain cells with testosterone._

"Which makes it a challenge. It's good for you… and if you don't go in right now, I'll throw your knickers down the dormitory staircase, again. Every last pair."

"And if I go in there will you shut up?"

"Yes, I will."

"All right, then I will." Remus reluctantly crossed the street, Sirius, James, and Peter close behind. They were probably going to watch him from across the store, and everything would end in catastrophe.

The little bell above the doorway rang as he stepped in, and looked around curiously for her. The floors were old, creaky wood, and everything seemed to be ancient. Once he had found her standing in towards the back of the store, James gave him a swift kick in the backside to move him forward.

Remus did love his friends, but times like these he really wished they would disappear.

Daunais had turned around, and looked shocked at seeing him. Remus immediately knew it was all sarcasm back in Great Hall. She was probably disgusted, and would go laugh with Rosalind later. Girls, honestly.

"Hello, Remus," she said, smiling at him.

"Hi," he said, scuffing the ground with his shoe nervously. "Lovely day, isn't it?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he scolded himself for using such a lame, lame, lame conversation starter.

"Lovely? It's absolutely torrential." She took a step closer to a nearby bookcase that was displaying sheet music. Inkblot was an odd sort of store, filled with many second-hand good along with the basic writing and drawing supplies. The artsy, vintage store where all the beatniks hung out. There was a wall of used books, sheet music, vinyl records and handmade necklaces a local woman sold.

"You play the piano?" Remus asked.

"Yes, actually. Classical." She began flipping through a few of the books. "I've found more than one interesting piece here… they're so old, they're falling apart. Anyway, they still make nice little pieces to have lying around." Daunais turned away from the shelf, to look back at him. "So what're you doing in here?"

He pulled on his collar uneasily. "I need to buy a quill… and I've been meaning to ask you who Burgess is. There's nothing on him in the library."

"Oh." She seemed surprised, but her eyes had lit up. "Burgess. Well, I don't think they would have anything by him in Hogwarts. He wrote some really psychological stuff. Say, would you like to get a coffee?"

"Yes," he answered, before really processing what she had said.

"Terrific."

He decided he would return to buy his quill later, and followed her out of the store and into the Three Broomsticks, which was a short walk. Sirius, James, and Peter weren't being very inconspicuous as they followed him. They were about five feet behind them, and sat at an adjacent table. They quickly ordered something to drink, and began to talk again.

"So tell me more about Burgess," Remus said.

"He wrote _A Clockwork Orange_, which wasn't too hard to understand, but difficult to explain. It's about this guy, and he's evil, so the government tries to redeem him by showing him violent films to classical music to repel him from violence… it's strange. He's basically being controlled by either spectrum—good or evil, but cannot find a medium." Daunais trailed off, and took a sip of her coffee. "I'm sorry, that didn't make much sense."

"Well, what is a clockwork orange?" Remus pressed.

"A clockwork orange is 'an organism lovely with colour and juice'. But in reality, this organism is nothing more than a toy, which works like clockwork—meaning it must be wound up by something of greater power to function. It is inhuman, and can only perform good, or only perform evil. Something along those lines."

Well, Remus thought, Burgess didn't seem too boring. "It's something I'll look into reading."

"I'll lend you my copy."

"Oh… thanks." Remus leaned back in his chair, and took a sip of his tea. Daunais was rather pretty, in a simple way. She had ash blonde hair that was always in a messy ponytail. She was small, thin, and flat chested.

Remus felt all the blood rush to his face, and was horrified at his own thoughts. He had just looked at her gills. Bad, very bad move. He was putting the _whore_ in _hormone_ and he didn't even like her in that way.

It was kind of nice talking to her, too. Bookish sensibilities and what have you, but now, well, it was going to be a bit more difficult to speak.

"So," she said, breaking the awkward silence that took place between a clockwork orange and her gills and the bookish sensibilities. "Your friends are following us. A personal cheerleading group?"

"Yes—no—uh," his brain shut off again. He turned around and looked at Sirius, who smiled and waved innocently. Remus fixed him with a glare that promised death. "They're more like a personal inquisition squad."

"The black haired one is Sirius, right? Regulus's older brother? And there's Potter… and is the last one Fenwick?"

"Pettigrew, actually," Remus said, turning around to face her again.

"Ah."

Another awkward silence fell, and Remus uneasily stirred his tea, adding more milk than was needed. Conversation, he thought, was so incredibly difficult. He was very aware that blush had been creeping up his neck the entire time, and had finally managed to cover his face. "You hang out with Sniv—Snape."

"Who I understand has been Sirius's sworn enemy ever since the train ride to Hogwarts first year."

"Exactly."

"He doesn't seem like the most pleasant company."

"He isn't."

"So why do you hang out with him? You guys are together quite a bit." How hypocritical. He was turning into an inquisitor, and wanted to add _feel free to slap me at any point in this conversation._

"It's all platonic," Daunais said. "He's intelligent, and that's more than I can say for the rest of Slytherin. They are all crazy, unreceptive bastards. Well, Severus is really unreceptive, to… sometimes it's like talking to a rock."

Remus genuinely laughed. "You don't seem like you belong in Slytherin."

She smiled, and he thought he saw her neck go pink. "I was really hoping for Ravenclaw… it's what my mom was in. The Sorting Hat said something about wanting to prove myself to people." The small smile faded to something more serious. "If the books didn't give it away, I'm a half-blood. Doesn't happen very often, there are actually only four of us in Slytherin right now, out of all the years. It's why I'm friends with Rosalind—her dad's a Muggle." She laughed again, but it was dark and harrowing this time. "And I trust you won't go and tell this to Regulus or Severus. You don't seem like that kind of person, and I certainly do not want to be exiled."

"Of course not."

One thing he noticed was that she laughed a lot, but each laugh was very distinguishable and half of them weren't even authentic. Then again, he smiled a lot, but not all of those were happy.

The rest of the time passed quickly enough, but they didn't sit long enough to need refills on their coffee. About ten minutes later, Daunais excused herself, saying she had to meet up with Rosalind.

"It was nice talking with you," Remus said, smiling as he watched her stand up. She returned the smile, fussing with the thumbholes of her tattered sweater. It was threadbare, and looked as if it had been made in the thirties, not much unlike the worn-in clothes he preferred.

"Yeah, and I'll give you the book when we get back, okay?" She placed a few sickles on the table. "See you then."

"Bye, Antonia," he said. After she had walked out the door, he realized it was the first time he had used her name. There was something odd about it.

Immediately, Sirius greeted him with a slap on the back, as James and Peter jumped into the seats opposite him.

"Remus, you… you scored," James said.

"She likes you," Peter added.

"I _survived_," Remus sighed, leaning back in his chair with his hands over his face. "Oh, god. It was terrible, but I did it."

"But you did screw up," Sirius reminded him. "You turned purple four times. I counted. But the third time it was more of a red, like a diseased eggplant. Now why was this, old chap? And why did you keep scratching your nose?" He sat up straight, and squared his shoulders properly, going into an exaggerated proper accent. "You must find the problem and fix it, preventing any further humiliation of yourself before you lose your once chance to get laid—I mean, to experience the loveliness of courtship. Yes, yes, yes. That's what I meant."

Remus sunk lower in his seat. "Gills. I hate fish. I hate gills. I refuse to acknowledge anything of a remotely sexual nature. That little chat with her? Right, nothing to do with The Unspeakable. Ever. Not now. Never, actually."

Sirius paused, his eyebrows slowly rising until he looked like he was frozen in permanent surprise. "The Unspeakable. You looked. Good job! Moony, you are a step closer to--"

"Don't even say it, Sirius," he moaned, his head finally banging onto the table. "This conversation never happened."

"Oh, it did." James grinned evilly, and stood up. Peter followed, and stood on the other side of Remus. He lifted his head, and looked at the two of them, slowly becoming more frightened. They each took hold of his arms.

"Hey—what! Where are we going?" he stammered, as they lifted him to his feet.

"Floral shop," James said, sounding much like a chirping little bird.

"Why?"

"Flowers."

"Oh, _no._"

Tragically, once they had seen the flower shop in Hogsmeade, even Sirius refused to go in. It was a death trap of frilly decorations and man-eating plants. So once they had gotten back, Remus had walked to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and picket a small bunch of flowers, without Sirius watching over what he selected and telling him whether or not it was satisfactory.

Before dinner that night, Sirius had dragged Remus up into the dormitory to make him 'somewhat presentable', as he had said. This was, in fact, the completely opposite of what Remus considered presentable. Presentable was trousers, an oxford shirt, and possibly a sweater vest.

Sirius told him to sit in a chair, as he vigorously rubbed a blob of hair gel between his palms.

"Sirius, what's wrong with my hair?" he asked, becoming more terrified as Sirius looked him over.

"It's too neat." With that, he attacked Remus's hair, deliberately messing it up while he yelped, trying to shove him off ineffectually. Sirius pulled away after a moment, giving his hair a final shake.

"I look like _you_!" Remus yelled, looking in the mirror. "It's awful!" His neatly combed brown hair was now sticking up in every direction, falling over his eyes. He reached for a comb, and Sirius threw a sweater at him.

"Now, you just need to wear this."

"I am _not_ wearing this." Remus held up the sweater. It was a faded black, so it looked grey, and was artfully ripped at the cuffs. "There is no way—wait, is this the sweater I gave to you fourth year?"

"It still fits," Sirius said, "and I added some artful changes."

"That is not 'artful.'"

"Moony, you can wear that or the dog collar. You know, the leather one, it's verily sexily."

"That necklace is growing mould."

"So you're doing the sweater?"

"Neither."

"Remus, _please_," Sirius whined. He fell to his knees in front of Remus, and stuck out his lower lip. There was a dramatic pause where he seemed to tremble. "I am helping you. You are not chasing this girl away with your sweater vests and neatly knotted ties."

"You are also _forcing _me to give her flowers."

"It's classic!" He stood up, and began to pull the grey sweater over Remus's head. "I mean, if you were to transfigure your peas or what have you into flowers, they would still be peas, and that's not the loveliest thing, now, is it? Who gives someone peas for a present? I thought so. The magic would be impressive but all you are really saying is _you are worth only a forkful of peas._"

"Padfoot, I didn't say anything about peas." Remus finished pulling on the sweater, and made a few of his own adjustments, by pulling the collar of his undershirt into view, and rolling up the sleeves far enough so that you couldn't see the tears. "There," he said, "I'm wearing your sweater."

"And you're not going to tuck it in, or anything nutty like that?"

"No, I won't tuck it in, or anything nutty like that."

Sirius looked at him, squinting. "Your hair," he said, "it's already becoming neat again. Does it do that automatically?"

"Yes."

Sirius spent the next minute ruffling it to perfection. After checking that everything was in order again, he finally asked to inspect the flowers.

Remus grabbed a few daisies he had picked off of the bedside table. Sirius stared at him for a moment, and looked like he was going to cry. Remus, on the other hand, wasn't sure if he was in pain, or again laughing at how clueless he was when it came to 'the world of sex and courtship', as James had said.

"Moony, this is not going to cut it." Sirius took out his wand, and folded his arms for a minute, concentrating.

"Can we avoid all man-eating species of flowers?" Remus asked.

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm just thinking of any charms we could use. Eternally fragrant? Prolonged life? Singing?"

"NO," Remus said, very quickly. "No singing flowers. There will be no singing, at all."

Sirius shrugged, and flicked his wand at the cluster of daisies. They immediately transformed into a bundle of red, fragrant flowers very close to roses, but there was something distinctly wizard about them. After that, they both descended the staircase into the common room.

One of the third years let out a shriek of surprise, and rushed out at the sight of their prefect gone mad.

James was the first one to actually hit the floor because he was laughing so hard. "You look like one of those rock stars. The ones with the goofy hair."

"You look like Sirius," Peter added.

Frowning, Remus reached to smooth his hair down, but Sirius promptly smacked his hand away. "No!" he said firmly, as if training a dog. "We are trying this look on you, and it's going to work. Too bad you don't have any boots, because the wing-tipped shoes do nothing for the fashion."

James sat up, adjusting his glasses. "Are you reading Muggle fashion magazines again? Do girls _really_ go for that kind of thing?"

Sirius shrugged, pulling James to his feet. "We're about to find out."

As Peter, Sirius, and James dragged Remus out of the room, he took one desperate look back, trying to remember what the world was like before his humiliation. The walk to the Great Hall was too short, and he felt like a man on death row.

Once they entered the doors, Sirius and James exchanged one of their mischievous glances.

"Should we make him do it now?" James asked.

"No!" Remus yelped, voice oddly high-pitched.

"Did you just _squeak_?"

"I'd rather have my last meal, if you please," he pleaded. "Besides, look at her! Absorbed in conversation! And she's probably going to catch me on her way out because I'm borrowing a book."

They sat down, James and Sirius trapping him between them, so there was no escape. "All right," Sirius said. "On the way out if, not before dinner. And hide the flowers!"

Relieved, Remus slid the small bouquet under his chair, if it could even be called a bouquet. By the fifth time he had been asked about his hair, Antonia had stood up, and was walking towards them.

James slid over, clearing a space next to Remus for her to sit in.

"You're turning pink!" Sirius whispered, as they both watched her walk over. "Stop it! No, _don't make that face!_ You're all squinty! And no squeaking!"

"Sirius, _shut up!_"

"Hallo," Antonia said with a smile, walking over. "Here's the book—a bit coffee stained, but satisfactory."

"Thanks," Remus said, feeling as though the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He was nervous. Really, really, nervous, even though he shouldn't have been. Even though he knew it was Sirius's fault for getting him worked up over this. Otherwise, he would've been confident, it everything would've gone smoothly. But no, now he had a crazy animal on his head posing as his hair.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter motioning for her to sit down in the space they had cleared for her. After a bit of hesitation, took a seat next to him, vaguely aware that most of the people surrounding them had gone silent and were watching intently.

"What happened to your hair?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It—it died," he said awkwardly, watching her lips curl into a smirk. "Sirius killed it, I'm sorry. Here!" He reached under the table to grab the flowers, catching her by surprise.

"These are for you," Remus said, voice going into the unpleasant high pitch, again, that he had thought was over when he turned fourteen. The five seconds it took for her to react seemed to stretch on, and when she finally did show signs of life, she was speechless.

"_Wow," _see said finally, as if she had never seen a bundle of roses before. "Remus, they're wonderful! Thank you—I just—_wow_." Fortunately, she seemed just as embarrassed as Remus, which was a small consolation.

"You're—you're welcome." And now Remus was stuttering. What a lovely, humiliating moment. Remus tried to ignore the fact that Severus Snape was again giving him a glare from across the hall.

"You'll have to excuse him," Sirius said quietly. "Poor Remus here is still trying to get over his fear of the opposite sex."

Remus felt his face burning, as Antonia turned around to look at Sirius. "Well, maybe Remus would like to meet up tomorrow afternoon?"

"Remus would be delighted, _wouldn't he?"_ Sirius turned to him, nodding with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was a one-word answer that he barely had enough air to say.

"Excellent." A bright pink glow was still blazing on her cheeks. "I'll see you, then. Tomorrow. Um—yes. Thanks for the flowers!" She stood up, and grinned at him. "Most unfortunately, I did promise Rosalind I'd be only a minute, so I should get back to her." Antonia gave an awkward sort of bow, and walked back to the Slytherin table, with a bit more spring than doc martens usually provided.

"Wow," James breathed, watching her skip away. "You did it. I'm going to try that."

"I," Remus said weakly, "feel like I'm going to die."

"And fluttery sort of crushes—like you are most obviously having—sometimes do that to you." One of Sirius's devilish smiles began to spread across his face. "Congratulations, Remus. You are a step closer to getting—"

"NO!" Remus shouted. "Sirius, I swear to _god_ if you _ever_ say that _again_—"

"—laid."

"AUGH!"


	3. Stars are Like, so Rad

Smile Like You Mean It

Chapter 3

* * *

The next day, Sirius had abandoned Remus, or so Remus felt. He left him at the entrance of the school, fidgeting nervously, and looking stupid. During lunch, Daunais had said she wanted to meet him around two.

Remus looked at his watch. She was four minutes and twenty-two seconds late. Even this early on, he was dreading what could happen. Maybe it was just a set up. Maybe she didn't really like him. Maybe she knew that he had looked at her 'gills'. Sirius had adopted this as new slang for breasts.

He stood there in the crisp September air, fretting about girls for some time.

"Don't look so terrified." He turned around, recognizing the innocent laughter. Antonia was standing there, smiling brightly at him, in a nubby-looking knit hat. "Sorry—I was held up. Try explaining why you're dressed as a Muggle to Severus… ha, ha, hahhh." The last part came out as an irritated sigh.

They began to walk towards the lake, without any real plan. "What did you tell him?" Remus asked, kicking a pebble.

"That is was the height of Wizard fashion to adopt Muggle accessories, and reminded him he wouldn't know anything about it, because all his wardrobe consists of are black robes."

"And was there a response to this insult?"

"Something about me looking like an idiot, and him needing to wash his hair."

Remus briefly wondered if Antonia thought he was also fashion incompetent. Sirius hadn't dressed him today, and he was in fact wearing one of his sweater vests.

"Don't let Sirius dress you anymore, by the way," she said, as if reading his thoughts. "The sweater is very cute."

Face turning red, he stopped by the lake, and sat down on the grass. Antonia followed, stretching her legs out in front of her and kicking off her shoes. On the other side of the water, a few third year girls were giggling at the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, who was stretched out on a bench, working on his homework. Remus still had no idea why all the girls loved that guy so much.

"I started reading _A Clockwork Orange_ last night," he said, attempting conversation. "I got to chapter four… and what is that guy speaking, anyway?"

Antonia smiled, and lolled back, stretching her arms up until she was lying out on the grass, staring at the sky. "I think it's cockney, Russian, and Slovakian, plus his own made-up slang."

"The main character is… how to put it… deeply disturbed? Frightening? Off his proverbial rocker?"

"All of the above."

"In fact, he reminds me of Rabastan Lestrange."

"Then you know your Slytherins—congratulations. A boy whose interests include murder and Beethoven."

Remus also lay back until he was lying in the grass. Yawning, he put his hands behind his head. "Is this book going to ruin Beethoven for me?"

"It will when you get to part two."

"Hah."

They rested in silence for a while, just staring up at the sky. Around them, you could hear people splashing at the edge of the lake, and the occasional bout of laughter from various groups.

"Sorry, am I boring you?" Remus asked, rolling onto his side.

"No, not at all." Antonia had her eyes closed, and her hands were folded across her torso. She looked very peaceful, and Remus would've thought she was asleep, except for the fact that she was speaking. "Remus, you're not a boring person."

"All I've really talked about is literature. Even McGonagall can only hold a conversation about Eliot for so long."

She opened her eyes, and rolled onto her side so she was facing him. "McGonagall reads poetry?"

"A little."

Propping her head up with one hand, she gave a small smile. "The professors, they're all crackers." She paused, fiddling with a piece of grass absently. "Well, we did have quite a nice meeting yesterday."

"Which one?"

"Both. And the flowers were really lovely, but I made an ass out of myself. What I meant to say was thank you, not stutter and all that."

"You know, they were originally daisies," he said, looking over at the forest. "Of course, when it was time for the makeover, compliments of Sirius—which I really didn't advocate—he also wanted to change them into something extravagant and embarrassing."

"They're still very nice." Antonia followed his gaze to the forest. Hagrid was sitting outside his hut, watering the pumpkin patch, with Fang at his heels. "We should go for a walk," she said, pulling herself up. Turning back towards him, she held out a hand, also helping him to his feet.

Remus thought they held hands a second longer than needed, but then again; it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

They made their way to the Quidditch pitch, where the Gryffindor team was practicing. Their adventure of the day was climbing to the top section of the teachers' stand. They sat watching the players zoom by, and occasionally had the quaffle tossed at them. After about the practice ended, they decided instead to continue walking in the sunny afternoon.

"So your dad is from France?" Remus asked, jumping off the last three steps into the grass.

"Yes and no," she replied. "He moved here once he finished at Beauxbatons. He still talks in French _all the time_, and I don't understand any of it."

"So your mother was the Muggle?"

"Yeah… your dad was, also?"

"Yes, and very much a fan of Steinbeck." He kicked a pebble, and they started towards the courtyard. "He'd love you."

"Well, write home and tell him you've met a wonderful girl who would be delighted to discuss politics with a bookish sense of humour over some tea."

Remus actually contemplated writing those exact words. He looked at Antonia, who was walking a few feet in front of him, with her hands in her pockets. They were jeans… beat up, a hole starting to form in the back. And he was trying really, really hard not to make any mental notes about her figure, like that huge mistake he had made with the "gills" incident.

"So," Remus began uncertainly. "Do you play Quidditch?"

"I filled in for Parkinson once last year, after he was given a one-week suspension from the team… it was fun, but not something I'd do again. The bludgers… wow, they're painful, especially when you take one to the face. I mean, it's a great sport to watch, but—"

"—One of the most lethal games to participate in?"

"Yes."

Remus laughed. "Yeah, James and Sirius end up in the hospital wing regularly because of it. I'd rather just watch."

A few moments passed in silence. It wasn't awkward, just silence. A group of first years ran past laughing and shouting about something.

"So what are you interested in?" Antonia asked.

"Swing music," he automatically replied. "Big band… but some of the more modern bands, too. John Lennon, Fleetwood Mac, The Beach Boys…"

A grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up. "Fleetwood Mac, you're so bloody funny."

Suddenly, someone came up behind Remus, leaping onto his back and causing him to yelp. Two other people broke into laugher, and he sighed heavily in relief.

"God, Moony, I thought you were going to have a heart seizure!" Peter laughed, as Sirius removed himself from where he was gripping Remus's shoulders.

"A heart seizure? Peter, you can't have a—"

"ANYWAY," Sirius interrupted, and the two other boys went quiet. "We're just stopping in for your daily dose of Sirius Love. I now bid you adieu." He bowed, and started off in the other direction, followed by James and Peter.

"It's strange," Antonia commented, watching them. "You're so bookish and they're so… not. Just… how people end up having friends so different from themselves at first glance."

"I know." He sighed, running a hand through his sandy-brown hair. "I wonder about it myself sometimes."

"Must be a hell of a job, being a prefect around them."

"Oh, it is. Try reprimanding them for sneaking into the kitchens at three AM, or setting off fireworks from the Astronomy tower."

"The problem is that's something I would like to do." She was grinning broadly at the image. "Sneaking around after hours, but nobody in Slytherin house knows what qualifies as fun. A game of chess is an Olympic event there."

"We could, you know," Remus replied, without thinking much. "Do a midnight tour of the school and all. I mean—damn it—forget I said that. I'm a prefect."

"It's been erased from my memory. Hey, what time is it?"

Remus looked at his watch. "Five."

"Oh, shit." Antonia sighed dramatically, pulling on the brim of her hat. "I need to work on that report with Snape. Great, I told him I'd be back after an hour."

"Has it really been that long?" Remus asked himself. They had been outside for nearly three hours.

"Crap, crap, crap. It's crap, he's crap—sod Potions. All right. Ugh… god…" She looked rather displeased at the prospect of going inside. Her expression resembled that of someone who had just had stink sap smeared under their nose. "I'd love to hang around, really. It's been great talking, I'll see you around."

Remus was completely thrown off guard when she leaned over and hugged him. It wasn't a long hug, just a quick, friendly, and very distracting hug that left him flushed. She smelled good, too. Still, he was so shocked he hardly realised he had returned the hug, smiling, even if it was only for a few seconds.

A moment later, he was watching her run towards the castle entrance nearest the Slytherin dungeons, and disappear as she passed through the crowded courtyard.

Antonia came to a stop once she burst into the common room, feet sore from the effort of jumping flights of staircases to get to the dungeons. Rosalind was sitting on the couch with Evan Rosier, the both of them pouring over volumes of text. Regulus was sitting at one of the tables in the corner, frowning slightly as he reread his essay, a cauldron next to him steaming something purple. Gwen Magin was sitting across from him, a girl with short brown hair in a bun. The lower year students were scattered about, grouped together and working or playing Exploding Snap, which seemed to be very popular among one bunch of fourth years.

"Hey, has anyone seen Severus?" Antonia asked, leaning in the doorway.

"Up in the dorm," Rosier replied, not looking up from the text. He had long, curly red hair that hung down to his ears, like an Afro that had died. "He's not in the best mood, by the way. Be careful."

Hesitating for only a second, she made her way up the boys' dormitory, where one of the doors was slightly ajar. Knocking, she stepped in, to find Severus sitting cross-legged on his bed, a cauldron on his nightstand, which he had pulled forward so it was in front of him, as a makeshift workstation.

"Have fun frolicking about with the Gryffindor?" he asked, an abundance of loath in the words.

"Yes," she replied coldly. "Sorry I'm late. How much have you done?"

"Just starting." He unscrewed a bottle that held the powdered shell of some foreign beetle. "Do you actually plan on helping?"

"I do, as a matter of fact. How are we going to do this—brew the potion together, or you brew and I take notes—"

"I don't care."

Shrugging, Antonia sat down on the bed next to him, watching the potion foam as he added ingredients. She took the sheet of parchment he had begun taking notes on, dipped a quill in an inkwell, and continued with the observations. They had been given directions on brewing a particular potion, and were told to write an essay on it's composition, development, and reactions. They would be testing the final product in class tomorrow.

"So," she said, after a long period of silence.

Severus didn't look at her, and kept his cold, onyx eyes fixed on the task. "Have fun today?" he asked sourly.

"Why are you so bitter about it?"

"Bitter?" he repeated. "Oh, I'm not bitter, just thoroughly pissed off at the thought of you being seen with a bunch of filthy half-bred bastards. They're as undignified as animals." This was probably the closest Severus ever got to caring about somebody. In his eyes, he was simply looking out for Antonia's well-being and reputation.

"Sod off. You don't know anything about Lupin, do you?"

"I know he's worthless. Look at you! Dressed like one of _them_."

"We had this argument before," she said simply, picking at her nails. "You obviously do not know the comforts of Muggle attire, do you? A lot more creative than robes, that's for sure. Now, would you stop being such a git?"

"I'm not being a git!" he said, voice rising. "Overnight you've just… shit… ever since he spoke to you at dinner, you've changed."

"I'm happy?"

"Yes—no—fuck it! If you want to become one of them, fine. You'll lose all respect, not that you had much to begin with."

"Oh, just sod off! For Christ's sake!" Antonia yelled. "WHY is this such a problem? Will you tell me?"

His reply was cut off when Regulus opened the door, looking rather pissed off. "What the hell is going on up here?" he asked. "I can hear you at the bottom of the staircase."

"Just debating Antonia's new status, posing as a Mudblood," Severus sneered.

"Oh, that. Right." He walked in, and folded his arms, as if watching a rather boring show. "Anyway, I side with Severus on this one. You waltzing around with that filth Lupin just isn't right. What are you, a blood traitor? Besmirching the name of wizards—"

"—Not logical on any level—" Severus continued.

"YOU'RE NOT LOGICAL ON _ANY_ LEVEL!" Antonia screamed. "You fucking twit! Regulus, shut up! Get out of here!"

"You shut up, traitor. It's not your room," he sneered.

"Actually, Regulus… get out," Severus added, as if having a sudden change of thought.

"Why?"

"Because I told you to."

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

"What's wrong with _you_?" he replied. "Do I have to say it again, you blithering idiot? Leave, now, if you please." Severus was taller, more intimidating, and had a certain level of power over most of Slytherin house.

"Try me," Regulus said, though rather weakly. He always tried to get the last word, and it was always ineffective.

Severus's reply was cut off as Antonia unceremoniously threw a book at Regulus, and missed. He snapped the door shut, the text falling to the floor.

"Nice," Severus said rather plainly, his voice returning to normal volume. "You could've done better. You should've gotten that bloody shithead right in the eye, it would've been great."

"Sod that. You were siding with him five seconds ago." She folded her arms, glaring at him. "Why are you being a prick?"

"I'm not being a prick, you're the one frolicking around with Lupin and Black. There would be none of this if you hadn't spent all afternoon with Lupin."

"There is no frolicking," Antonia muttered, tired of arguing. She pressed her palms against her closed eyes, the pressure relieving an oncoming headache. "Just let it go. Don't bother me about it. I'll hang around with who I want, and you'll never win, because I'll do it anyway so let's just _leave_ _it_ and get this bloody assignment done."

Severus' face had twisted into an unpleasant expression of hatred and defeat. "Never mind it," he hissed. "I'll make the potion and take notes. Just write up the final part—half and half. Find me, and I'll give you the notes later."

"Sure, all right. Thanks." She stood up and left, slamming the door behind her.

Severus looked back down at the layout of ingredients on the small table.

So, he had lost Antonia to Remus Lupin. Pleasant, kind, and scholarly Lupin.

Well, good for him. Right?

"That's _my_ star," Sirius said, pointing up at the sky.

It was midnight on Friday, and they were all up in the Astronomy tower for class.

"Yes, Sirius, it is," James sighed. "You point this out every class."

"It's so _cool_," Sirius continued. "I have my own star."

"If you don't shut up you'll be seeing stars."

"I am Sirius, and that is Sirius. Together, we are The Sirius. Proof I am a god."

Remus had been trying to find some random galaxy on his paper for ten minutes now, constantly distracted by James and Sirius' inane babblings. He was nervous for other reasons, too.

"So Moony," Peter said, looking up from his blank star chart, "are you going to ask her?"

Yes, those reasons.

"Shh," Remus warned, looking over his shoulder nervously. His tie was crooked from all the times he had tried to adjust it, relieving his unusual anxiety. _Girls should not be this difficult_, he thought. It had become a lot easier to talk to Antonia in the past few days, but now he seemed to be back at square one. A nervous stupid boy who smelled of chocolate, clutching his quill with a sweaty palm, who hadn't realized he had run out of ink three sentences ago.

"Yeah," he said, after a moment of looking at Antonia's back. "Yeah, I'm going to. Force me to, because I'll never get it over with if I don't do it this class."

"We can lock you two up here until you ask her out," Peter said. "All alone, with no distractions."

"If there are no distractions," Sirius butted in, "there shall be much shagging by one Remus Lupin."

"Sirius," Remus said, a warning tone in his voice, "that's _all_ you've been saying this week. Stop it, please, it's killing me."

"In a frustrated tension way?"

"No, in a _he's going to kill you _way," James said.

Gnawing on his quill, Remus looked back over at Antonia. She and Rosalind had apparently finished their work with the telescopes, and were now copying down notes between fits of giggles. When she turned, he promptly looked back down at his paper.

"Ten minutes until the lesson ends," Professor Sinistra called, walking around the students. "If you have not completed your charts, I will be in my office until one-thirty."

_Good,_ Remus thought. The tower would be unlocked and the students would have access to it until then.

"I'm so proud of you, really," Sirius said, dramatically dabbing at his eyes. "My ickle Moony is growing up. He's asking a girl out under the stars. Under the safety of _my_ star."

James finally kicked him, hard, in the shin. Sirius yelped, stumbling, and a few people looked over. "Bloody hell!" He was laughing, with tears in his eyes from pain and mirth. "Come here so I can sock you one in the ear."

They worked for a little while longer, Remus so jumpy his hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers on the ledge of the tower, until finally Professor Sinistra called that the lesson had ended, and people began filing out, yawning.

Antonia was gathering her things, and leaning by the door as if waiting for Rosalind. As Rabastan Lestrange walked by, she quickly stuck out her foot, tripping him, and causing him to fall down the stairs into Snape. There was much creative cursing, and she tried to look innocent, and Rosalind began to crack up.

"Oh, god, I'm so tired," Rosalind laughed. "That shouldn't have been funny. Bloody—oh, damn it all, I'm incoherent."

"Very much so."

They both laughed, and began to follow the last of the students out.

"Antonia!" Remus called. "Wait."

She turned around to look at him, hugging her textbook to her chest. "Hi," she said, smiling.

"Cheerio," James muttered, smirking. He left with Sirius and Peter, leaving the two of him alone.

Remus stared blankly for a moment. They were the only ones up here, his mouth was dry, and he hadn't planned it out. "Um… nice stars?" he offered, looking around nervously.

"Yes, they are pretty rad. The stars. Rad. I mean, you know, it's slang—er—" she cleared her throat, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Stars, right." She laughed timidly.

It was a small bit of relief to know she was anxious, too. "Err, yes," Remus said, sitting down on one of the worktables in the centre of the open room. "So, I've been meaning to ask you something," he said.

Antonia set her bag down onto the floor, and walked over, pulling out one of the chairs. Sitting down, she looked up at him, again tucking her hair back, suddenly looking very jittery. She still managed to smile for him. "Yes?" she asked. "What about?"

"Well…" Remus felt his throat tightening. He had been hanging out with her for only two weeks. Did normal people decide on things that rapidly? _Yes,_ he reminded himself. James had liked Lily ever since girls stopped having cooties and they had sat together during Charms in third year. "Well, I was wondering—do you think I have a chance?"

"A chance with what?"

"With—with, er, you."

The night air became very still. _Lame_, Remus thought. _Lame, lame, lame, listen to Sirius, flirt, don't panic, smile—_

"W-wait, _what?"_ Antonia asked, stuttering. "Sorry, it's late—I don't—"

"Here," Remus said, very quickly. Breathing deeply, he thought of Elizabethan writers, and tried again. "There's this part—in that play, where the guys sees the girl, well, maybe it's the other way around… in the play, he sees her and they talk for about two seconds, and he decides he likes her. Or the other way around, again, but for convenience let's say it's the first way." He watched his knee quake, out of his control, a Remus Sign of Apprehension. "And so… well… it's been a while since we worked together that day in Potions, but you left your book, so I gave it to you later, and then there was Hogsmeade, and the flowers. And we hung out one day, and—and you hugged me. Then there was Wednesday, where I sent my inkwell flying during Charms, but really I was trying to hit the feather, and the ink exploded all over James, but—but I was distracted, because you smiled at me. And I do not get distracted. You just—I—I _like_ you. And you like books—I like books. You're smart, you're fun to be with, and you are really, really pretty. But—but that's the thing. I like you."

He paused biting his lip. "And I… I don't like… I don't like how long it took me to explain all that." He took his hands out of his pockets, folding his arms and leaning over. "That, either. So—if—er, if I scared you off, I'll understand."

The silence was eating him.

"Remus," Antonia said, looking down at her short nails. Her fingers were rather bony, and she absently began playing with a loose thread on the hem of her skirt. "… You have a chance. I like you, too. This is cheesy. I sound like first year." She sighed, but a smile returned to her lips. "You don't know how much of a relief that was. Your little speech."

"I might have a guess."

"Was the play Romeo and Juliet? Well, for the love at first sight part."

"I think, but with role reversal… I can't remember… I hated the play."

"I hated Juliet. Fourteen and so desperate to marry him."

"Fourteen and drinking poison from a friar, whilst throwing herself about dramatically."

They both laughed, inelegantly. "Sooo…" Antonia said, looking back up at him. "I… I guess we're dating?"

"Yeah… I believe we are?"

"We are."

Remus believed for a moment that if he were to jump of the tower, he would fly. Standing up, he couldn't wipe the grin from his face. "Well, now that the most painful part is over, should we head inside?"

They left the tower, and by the time they had gotten back to the hallway outside the classroom, the awkwardness was also gone. Sirius, Peter, and James were waiting in the corridor, Sirius jumping nervously as he argued with one of the portraits. Hearing footsteps, he turned sharply, and looked at them. "'Ello, how goes it?"

"Wonderful, and yourself?" Remus asked.

"You are grinning like an _idiot_," James pointed out. "Stop it. It's frightening."

* * *

Yay! Now, we can actually work towards a conflict! Oooh! Aaah! Eeee!

I apologize for the general stupidity of the chapter. It was written during a time of Great Stress and Course Selection for Junior Year. And edited while I was home sick with the flu/strep. Har, har.


End file.
